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Kiev, 2014: An Abominable Death Of The City Of My Birth

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I was born there. And now my native city is dead. Mourn with me if you want to share my grief. If you don't want- don't bother commenting, please.


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My city of birth died in infamy and abomination. It had been desecrated.

There is a horrible Eastern Saying: Only Abomination kills Fame.

I was born and raised in the famous and proud city of Kiev. The city was proud of its history, of being a place of Russian Christendom, the place of first State of Russia and the place of the final stay against Mongol hordes. It was proud of its daughter Anna Jaroslavna, the famous Queen of France, mother of Louis, The Saint, proud of the Polytechnic Institute, of the Aviation plant and Aviation College, proud of the world -- famous "orchard belt', of great Ukrainian poets and writers, of the songs without end and the Opera Theater. It was even proud of its tragedies; the horrible battles of WWII, the grief of the occupation and the glory of liberation, the massacre of Baby Yar (no, you cannot be proud of that, but those who died there were the pride of the city), with its famous St Cyril and St. Sophia, with the tomb of great educator Ushinski, with the street named after writer-humanist Korolenko, with the Lavra Church complex and the Gothic mini- cathedral, with the blossoming chestnuts, the trees of my childhood. It was also my pride, no matter where I lived. No more.

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The abominable shabash in the Kiev Center, the bacchanalia of nationalistic scum, the revival of the worst possible, dreadful demons of the past, the shameful behavior of the western media which promoted and nurtured that atrocity- all of that killed my pride and my love forever. There is an empty space in my heart where my legacy was and I feel that I emigrated once again, this time forever. I hate them. God damn them. The chestnuts are burned into the tire ashes.My sorrow has no bounds; so is my rage.

Oh yes, they have talks about my Ukraine in.. Munich. How ironic.

This diary is not for discussion: I said what I said because I had a right to say it;. I am not interested in discourse. I will be grateful for support, for understanding and for empathy. To those who would like to argue- please, don't. Not here. Go elsewhere; there is a plenty of shills who write about that and applaud the abomination. I don't care for the interpretations. There is only one. I am in mourning for the land of my ancestry, desecrated by Satanic evil. Mourn with me or go away.

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The writer is 57 years old, semi- retired engineer, PhD, PE, CEM. I write fiction on a regular basis and I am also 10 years on OEN.

The views expressed in this article are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of this website or its editors.

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